


Smoke and Fire

by Etnoe



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Office Sex, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 00:21:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20416785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etnoe/pseuds/Etnoe
Summary: Mokuba just has to show Seto the ropes when it comes to attitudes towards sex.





	Smoke and Fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lovejoy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovejoy/gifts).

Formal lessons had covered the necessities of safe sex and the more obvious details that Mokuba needed to know years ago. Common sense had covered the necessity of privacy; public opinion had always been perfectly happy to have something to berate one of the Kaiba sisters about. Mokuba had managed the deed without any problems, and well enough for her satisfaction.

What's going to cover the desire to talk about sex? The comparisons of past experiences, ridiculous details, things to try in future, weird and exciting little things she'd never thought to try? School friends go against common sense - a lot of people are willing to sell information! - someone like Anzu doesn't quite seem the type to talk about it in the fun way ... _logically_, that leaves the option of a beloved sister.

"I don't see the point of orgasms," Setomi tells Mokuba.

Her mouth is a sour pinch, lips thinned so as to be barely visible. It's as if stocks are down or people are telling her the latest technology is still ten years behind her design proposals. She's not working, though. The briefcase is down in her study, and they're in one of the more private lounges in the mansion with the news on, unlikely to be interrupted for the evening. She's just disinterested in the topic, and blunt about it. Mokuba sits bolt upright in a scatter of readings, blankets, and empty snack bowls to stare more closely in hopes of a shred of understanding, and all Setomi does is to roll her eyes.

_This was supposed to be _hot_, dammit!_

And that heartfelt thought finally dumps cold water on Mokuba's bewilderment at the hard turn the conversation has taken. She ignores the self-knowledge of how she'd been waiting, hoping to see Setomi turn superior or shy - a little pinker at the unrouged cheeks, and that would have been something to remember - and manages to reenter the conversation.

"Fun! That's the entire point of them!" Mokuba clutches a throw pillow on the couch in order not to hang on Setomi's arm, which somehow feels like it would give away too much right now, even though she wouldn't think twice to do it in front of other people. "How could you not... Come on, big sister. You have to be able to understand that!"

"Inconsistent, inconveniently timed, take too long or are over too fast. Both of the latter, actually. Can we please talk about something interesting, or keep watching the news?"

"_I'm_ fascinated. Doesn't that just mean you have to try and figure out more about what, um, hits your buttons?" Oh, awesome, now Mokuba's the one blushing instead. "And hey, what's 'inconveniently timed' supposed to mean, anyway?"

"As if the output would be rewarding enough to investigate the effort of new input." Setomi scoffs. "It's certainly not something I'm going to join the world at large in being obsessed with. And when the - ugh - hormonal urges do strike - I can control it or get it over with. But half the times it's during meetings, when I'm forced to sit still and listen to drivel that's not nearly distracting enough."

Mokuba lets a quiet gap grow right there, long enough for "Well, if that's what turns you on," to earn her a sideways grin-and-glare. No one else ever gets that expression, she knows.

Setomi mutters about her board members being so lucky, and they argue about whether an action movie or a documentary would better suit the evening.

It's amazingly unimportant. Mokuba doesn't even start in on teasing that a ghost story would be more appropriate given their lives. The right words for it keep forming in her mouth, and she stumbles more than once during arguments older than Setomi's fractured and healed heart, finding them impossible to bother with, not nearly the comfort they should be. 

"You win," Mokuba says with a wave of her hand. "I want to win the other argument."

Setomi looks confused as she sets up her movie that she's just going to spend half the time mocking the plausibility of. "You won't. But which argument is this?"

"The one in favour of orgasms! Let me make it?"

She presses forward on the couch, still clutching the throw pillow. The backs of her arms and the softness of the pillow both press to Setomi's side. She has an idea that making her eyes wide enough, sans obvious help from makeup, is key to getting Setomi to give in to her. It works on most people even when makeup is involved, but Setomi warms to reminders of the past, when Mokuba was much too young for anything but facepaints.

Or maybe Mokuba only gets like this, pleading and begging, about things she wants intensely - as if she would waste her sister's time! - and Setomi recognises that. When things are right between them and darkness is only in the places where it is intended to be employed, they want to give each other what they desire. They work closely together and have mutual knowledge of their capabilities and resources, they've had many of the same trials in life and had developed many of the same hopes, and so often, it turns out that with a little prodding from one of them and some thinking from the other, they realise that they want the same things, anyway. 

"Watch the movie, Mokuba," Setomi says impatiently.

"I can prove it at no effort to you. None whatsoever. Promise!"

She crosses her arms and fixes her gaze on the TV. "Watch the move, read some more, I don't care."

Purchasing sex toys inspires Setomi to make enquiries about how discreet Mokuba had been. The bullet vibrators, then their additional remote-control function, then the plain dildo; by the time it got to the dragon-inspired dildo, Setomi had come to accept that Mokuba was being completely sensible about this.

Mokuba had also got to see all the blushing she could hope for.

Sometimes Setomi stared and stared at her. Over the table when they're having a business lunch Setomi couldn't escape and that Mokuba bothered to dress up for, from the corner of the couch where Setomi sat straight-back stiff and cross-armed, across the back seat of the limo. Mokuba had started to grab Setomi's hand with a reassuring smile when they were sitting together, and refused to mind when Setomi's grip grew tight and squeezed her hand to feeling pins and needles.

Mokuba's role as VP of KaibaCorp is novel in its scope and perks, but it is legitimate. She knows enough of the business to guide the company successfully if Setomi is incapacitated, she has real authority. When she was younger it had been nearly impossible to exercise that authority in a solo capacity, but when those times came she'd had well-paid lawyers to back her up, and Isono had known both Kaiba sisters long enough to keep providing the leverage offered by unquestioning muscle. The system had allowed her the leeway to make things work, but it had been a huge pain. All in all, now that she's older and her big sister has paved the way enough that people expect success from her instead of trying to treat her like a helpless kid, it isn't a good idea for her to ditch an R&D meeting ...

Her request to be excused had got granted anyway. Setomi had signed off on it on the understanding that research for a paper might well be demanding, especially with Mokuba being new to university. And she did appreciate that Mokuba had organised the arrangements for the meeting as well as possible. R&D is due better treatment than the board was, and personal assistants always work past those kinds of restrictions instead of abiding by them.

The tablecloths that hang to the floor of the conference room are an old-fashioned element, a touch untidy-looking, but Setomi ignores the odd touch and sweeps across the room. Mokuba follows her progress on a phone screen, the security feed from the room's cameras. 

Setomi's gone with a miniskirt today. Trousers might have been better? However, the thinness of the sheer black stockings underneath, right in front of Mokuba as Setomi sits in her chair ...

She slips a hand out through a gap she had arranged in the tablecloth. Taking care of the little elements is so important. She drops her locket with their shared picture on Setomi's lap, a tiny weight, and then rests a hand on her knee. Now Setomi knows.

Setomi doesn't knock the hand off. She almost snarls, "Let's get to work, then."

When Mokuba's mouth lands on the nylon stockings, Setomi jerks with a tiny jump, whole body on alert.

Mokuba opens her mouth wider and introduces the tip of her tongue to the nylon taste and its body-warmth, sends her fingers skating up to the backs of Setomi's knees. This time, Setomi doesn't betray a single thing.

As always, Mokuba is serious about her duties. She won't be able to get the stockings off with an audience here - time to very carefully drown the noise of tearing them open with noise from the rest of the team.

Thank fuck for the repetition of these meetings: giving out welcomes, excusing absentees, listing the agenda points. Enough noise, she knows, she hopes, trying to relax enough to play. She gets her sister's legs open as she squeezes fingertips as far into the give of her tense thighs as she can - no paradise for free, that's certain. But recklessness is a gaming tactic; Setomi won't hold it against her and could even come to admire it.

Especially if she really comes to see Mokuba's point during the whole exercise. So, if she comes hard enough...

Mokuba does her best to have the movements hidden behind the fall of the tablecloth. Being seated at the head of the table at the head of the room, it's unlikely the people sitting nearby are close enough to notice little movements. And there's a presentation at the other end of the room to keep everyone occupied within ten minutes of the meeting starting.

She moves her head very little, but she lets her tongue flick out again and again, tracing the folds of Setomi's cunt. It's excruciating to have to be so careful at the merest nudge of her chin or the tilt of her head, but the movement she does allow herself is so relentless it nears savage.

Is Setomi panting yet? Is she near hypnotised by the rhythmic, insistent movement of Mokuba's tongue? The very tip will tease all around the hood of Setomi's clitoris, and broad wet swipes will venture close to inside Setomi. Which are the most survivable?

The music of the presentation starts. Mokuba had checked and knows that it's a few seconds over fourteen minutes long, and she boosted the volume of the room's speakers just a little. She thrusts her tongue through the holes in the nylon, trembling herself as she feels Setomi gushing down her chin, cunt parting so hot and so easily with the stronger movements. The taste makes her reflexively shove closer harder than she should, a little wild. When she does a strong lick up, swirls her tongue around the clit - Setomi's legs lock around her, her hand clutches tightly in Mokuba's hair.

When it's over, Setomi waits until each other person has left the room before ducking her head to see under the tablecloth.

"I am not returning the - the gesture."

Her eyes blaze. Mokuba breathes out, "Good, I'd _die_."

"But you - you've made your point. It's different. From what I'm used to. I'd prefer to experience that again."

"With me," Mokuba says, cowardly for a moment, her eyes falling to the floor.

Setomi loses composure enough for a nonreaction. But it turns out that their hands find each other, and then she hauls Mokuba in and holds her, desperate but certain.


End file.
